


Maybe Not

by syrenhug



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2455241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Carburetor (Couldn't they have come for something a tiny bit more original?) was a mix between a car shop and a house. The place was painted an obnoxious shade of red and blue. It was old, rusty, but Valdez seemed to be comfortable in the space</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Not

Day 1

"Oh. Shit."

Nico rolled his eyes. The curly haired mechanic was bent over, fiddling around under the hood. Occasionally, he'd hear a muffled curse and long sigh. Which he supposed was warranted seeing as it was his fucked up car the guy had to fix. But it wasn't his fault that some loser had rimmed into the front of his hearse.

He'd called his sister Hazel and she'd recommended him to one of her boyfriend's trusted mechanic place. It was family owned, apparently, though he saw no trace of anyone else.

Finally, the mechanic - Valdez - ducked his head up and grimaced.

"What?" He snapped because if there was one thing that annoyed him, it was not knowing what was going on.

"You're fucked."

" _Really?_ " The sarcasm fell flat, but he was still proud of it.

Valdez raised his eyebrows, but just shook his head, shifting his feet in some kind of unconscious dance. "It'll take a couple of days to fix, but it's nothing too serious."

"How many days is a couple of days?"

A rough hand slammed the hood and Nico narrowed his eyes at the blatant mistreatment of his baby. "A couple of days, man, is a couple of days."

"Whatever." He was already pulling out his phone to call someone to pick him up. "I'll be back tomorrow."

The mechanic pursed his lips. "What for?"

He crossed his arms. "I'm not leaving you unsupervised with my car."

"Sure." Valdez returned to looking at his hearse thoughtfully but he heard a muttered, "Asshole." And that meant war.

* * *

Day 3

The Carburetor (Couldn't they have come for something a tiny bit more original?) was a mix between a car shop and a house. The place was painted an obnoxious shade of red and blue. It was old, rusty, but Valdez seemed to be comfortable in the space.

He was sitting down on the ground, trying to tune out the music playing in the background in favor of focusing on his homework.

"Do you think you could turn this-" _Disgusting excuse for music_. "Euro trash down."

Valdez was wearing the full gear. A bandanna, the blue jumpsuit, goggles. Every once in a while, a tool would whirl and he'd break out into even louder and annoying song. Nico resisted the urge to reach out and strangle him.

"Aw, come on, di Angelo." His grin was wide as he waved his power tool in the air. "It's not bad."

Nico looked at him.

"Okay, it's pretty bad. But it helps me focus."

He let it go, then. It wasn't his place and he was imparting his company, for a good reason though it may be. He managed to get through his English assignments and study for his History test. When it was edging toward night, he got up, side stepping Valdez's endeavors to get the area cleaned up.

"Hey." Nico paused and blinked, questioning. Valdez's face was uncharacteristically serious and hands were tight around his biceps. "You're no better then me just because you have money and I'm a mechanic."

It wasn't because of any of that. It was the guy's entire being that bothered him. He was always smiling and laughing and telling jokes. When Jason had come over, bringing along his string of friends he'd found himself envious of all of it. It wasn't something he was proud of.

"You're immature."

"And you have a stick up your ass." It was almost nice, the way it was said. Kind.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Whatever."

"You're no better then me, di Angelo."

Nico knew.

* * *

Day 5

"You drive a hearse."

He sighed, waving his pen in the air. "And your hair is black. Are we finished with the latest installment of 'How many times can we state the obvious'?"

Valdez ignored the sarcasm and peered at him from under the car. There were streaks of oil on his face. Nico wanted to reach over and scrub them off with his fingers. "Why a hearse?"

"I don't know. Why not a hearse?"

"Yeah, but," The mechanic seemed to struggle with something. "Aren't you ever driving in this awful town and you're listening to your Hollywood Undead or whatever closeted broody teenagers listen to - "

" _Excuse me?_ "

"And it's raining and you can't help but think, _damn, dead people have been in this car?_ Don't you ever think about it?"

Sometimes when he was alone and Hazel was too busy with her friends and her boyfriend, he did think about it. He thought about finding his mother in the middle of the street, body cold enough to induce hypothermia to his person. He thought about his father so revenge driven that he'd sacrificed the life he had left and getting locked up for it. He thought about Bianca with her pretty smile and her warm kiss before she'd left for somewhere bigger and then died months later from an attack.

Sometimes, yes, he thought about death. How it'd stolen anything he'd ever valued. Everything he'd ever wanted. But the car was his reminder and he felt both safe and reckless in it.

But Nico couldn't say that, not to someone he barely knew and probably wouldn't understand anyway. So he just turned away and said, "No. I never think about it all, Valdez."

"Call me Leo. Please."

He nodded because those brown eyes were looking at him in a way he didn't understand. "Okay, Leo."

They didn't talk for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Day 9

Leo never stopped moving. His fingers were always screwing something in, taking something apart. His feet were always wiggling. His body was always shaking. It was like there was endless music inside him and he couldn't stop dancing to it.

He wanted to find it childish, but he couldn't help thinking that, in someway, it was beautiful.

"Come on." Leo urged, maneuvering in a way that had Nico quirking a smile. "This isn't such a bad song."

"I'm not going to- I mean, I can't dance."

Tan fingers stretched out toward his place in the garage and he hesitated before accepting. The warm grip around his wrist wasn't removed. Nico found it fascinating to realize that they were the same height.

"Me neither. Doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."

A minute later found his hands draped on Leo's shoulder and the mechanic's arm around his waist. It was a little awkward, but he didn't mind the touching because he didn't mind the person. Leo smelled like sweat and oil and his skin was as warm as his eyes.

"Nico?"

He licked his lips. "Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I-"

"Just shut up."

Nico didn't know who kissed who, but their lips ended up at the same place. Fisting a group of the mechanic's lazy curls he explored the taste of that orange soda Leo liked and dipped out a tad of cinnamon with his tongue. He bit at a lip and felt a returning nip back.

When they pulled back, Leo's face was flushed and his lips were red. But he was smiling. "Hi."

"It didn't need to take this long to fix my car, did it?" Nico's voice was rough. He cleared his throat.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."


End file.
